Ways A Man Can Go
by arsenicarpeggio
Summary: There are only three ways a man can go: he can let the status quo defeat him, like Moritz. He can rock the boat and be expelled, like Melchior. Or he can bide his time and let the system work for him. Until the system takes the only thing he ever loved.
1. Setting the Stage

**A/N:** Okay, so my muse finally kicked into action and here is part one of my promised epic, Ways A Man Can Go. Updates will be every other week, hopefully, seeing as I am incredibly busy this summer. This fic spans a massive length of time and looks like it will go on for a while, but we'll certainly see. Read, review and enjoy!

**Warning: **Although Hanschen/Ernst is the main pairing of the story, there WILL be OCs and they both will have romantic relationships with OCs, although this won't happen for quite some time. If you've read my Goodbye Until Tomorrow, you have an idea of what one of these will entail. Both are entirely necessary to the plot, but keep in mind: this story IS Hanschen/Ernst.

**Disclaimer:** 'Spring Awakening' is not mine; various later OCs are belong to me! =D

* * *

i.

Sweat rolled down his face, rivers of salt racing on a clammy porcelain bed. His teeth dug into his bottom lip, but he stared resolutely at the picture clutched in his right hand. He imagined the softness of her lips against his, the full weight of her breasts in his hands, and still, Hanschen could find no relief. The speed of his strokes increased, a soft moan escaping. His eyes screwed up, the exertion beginning to take its toll on him.

The moment his eyes closed, however, the image of his lovely Desdemona melted into the recesses of his mind. Her breasts shrank and became a flat chest. The body he now held was lanky and downright scrawny. Her lovely lips became thinner, and her face more angular. This fantasy, whomever it was, was infinitely more alluring and pleasurable than the girl. He imagined their hands stroking down his flat chest, skimming the soft patch of hair past his pelvis and reaching down to massage the organ that stood proudly between Hanschen's legs. And then, colours danced on the back of his eyelids, a white noise roared in his ears. Hanschen opened his eyes after a moment and sighed, cleaning himself up. He was, most definitely, not as attracted to the fairer sex as he know he ought to be. Or rather, he was far more attracted to his own gender than was appropriate.

This was not the first time that Desdemona had turned into someone decidedly more masculine whilst Hanschen pleasured himself. He left the bathroom and headed directly to his bedroom, where he sat contemplatively at the head of his bed. He was not particularly troubled by his attraction to other boys; even if there was another boy who shared his... proclivities, so to speak, Hanschen could certainly not approach him about it. He was meant to get married, become a lawyer or a banker, produce several children who were meant to serve to better Germany. It was not altogether an unpleasant fate. His one experience, if you could even call it that, with another boy had produced undesirable results, and he had lost two friends because of it. He knew better now. He gazed at Desdemona in his hand, before sighing and crumpling it up.

* * *

The classroom was stiflingly hot. It was a hot and sticky day; school had only been in session for a few weeks, and the sunlight poured in through the windows. The windows had been opened, in a vain hope that a cool breeze would come in. The sun beat down mercilessly on the boys in their heavy wool uniforms. Herr Sonnenstitch had reluctantly given them permission to remove their jackets, and now the sweat began to soak through their white starched shirts to their vests. Hanschen had finished his Latin conjugations several minutes before and listlessly looked around the classroom. Melchior, to his immediate left, had apparently finished as well. He had pulled out Goethe's Faust and was deeply immersed. Hanschen's lip curled up ever so slightly in disdain. Melchior had been putting forth quite an effort recently to prove that he was more intelligent and mature than Hanschen, although they both secured top marks in their studies. Moritz, on the other side of Melchior, was trembling in his seat, eyes screwed shut and hunched over as he desperately tried to remember the proper conjugations. He then noticed Melchior tilt his chalkboard ever so slightly to his left, just enough that his perfect conjugations were in Moritz's eyeline. Hanschen scoffed and turned away. Melchior was really only enabling his friend; if Moritz saw fit to not study, he would certainly not receive passing marks. He did not deserve Melchior's help. He turned slightly in his chair to see the boys in the last row. Georg and Otto were still finishing up their conjugations, though both seemed to understand the material. Georg and Otto had become two of his closest friends recently; taking lunch break together and walking home from school together. He and Otto would sit in the woods as they waited for Georg to finish his piano lesson, discussing literature, hopes for the future, and the girls from the village. He made eye contact with Georg and the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly in a smile, which George returned fully before turning back to his work. Hanschen then turned his attention to the thin, mousy boy in the corner. Ernst was staring at him, his gaze soft and full of an emotion Hanschen couldn't quite identify. As soon as his eyes met Hanschen's, he turned back to his work so quickly that his chalkboard dropped to the floor.

CRACK.

Herr Sonnenstitch was over to Ernst in the blink of an eye, the switch resting just under his jaw. "Herr Robel," He spat, his eyes narrowed, "what exactly is the meaning of this?" He snatched the board off of the floor and quickly examined it. "Would you care to explain to me why there is absolutely nothing of sense written on your board?"

"I-I'm sorry, s-sir... I-" Ernst fumbled, his face flushing and his eyes quickly becoming watery. He stared resolutely at his feet.

"Speak up, boy!" Herr Sonnenstitch barked, spittle flying as he bore down on Ernst. "I asked you to explain yourself! Tell me why it is that Herr Gabor and Herr Rilow have already managed to complete their assignment correctly, I presume, while you have not managed to complete a single conjugation. LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM SPEAKING TO YOU!" He roared, snapping the switch across Ernst's chest, a resonant THWACK! echoing throughout the room.

Ernst raised his eyes to meet his instructor's. "I... I h-have no excuse, H-Herr Sonnenstitch." He softly said, his entire body trembling. His eyes were glassier than before, Hanschen noted. His face had lost all of its color as well. "I'm sorry." Ernst murmured.

"Herr Robel." Sonnenstitch began in little more than a whisper, but the entire room heard each and every word. "You do realise that one member of this class will not promoted with the rest, due to limited space. And you do realise that you are precariously close to that position, correct?" Herr Sonnenstitch's aspirations flew through the room, each word hitting its intended mark dripping with calculated cruelty. His beady eyes turned now to Moritz. "The only thing saving you from being an utter failure... is Herr Stiefel." He turned completely around; Moritz slunk down in his seat. "And Herr Stiefel's continued sleeping in my class is the only reason that he, himself, is failing. I would suggest," he snarled at Ernst, "that you learn your conjugations. I expect a complete list of the conjugations we have worked on thus far this year on my desk tomorrow, the moment that this class begins. If you have not completed it, I will fail you myself at that very moment. Do I make myself clear?"

Ernst nodded rather pathetically; it was now all too obvious that there were tears streaking down his face. Hanschen studied the boy: he was rather small, very pale, but with dark hair and even darker doe eyes. He had a delicate, almost girlish manner; indeed, it appeared that he would positively break in two if Sonnenstitch continued on for much longer. Hanschen pondered this. Indeed, Ernst spent more time playing with the girls than he did rough-housing with the other boys. However, the girls themselves had always treated him as one of them, refusing to relinquish Ernst when he, Hanschen, and the other boys came to play pirates. Ernst himself, however, would eventually slink away with the boys, once Melchior had commanded he join them. Ernst was nothing if not submissive. This intrigued Hanschen.

"Herr Rilow?"

Hanschen blinked. Sonnenstitch stood in front of him, eyeing him expectantly. "Your conjugations, please."

He wordlessly handed him his chalkboard, gathered his belongings and rushed to the door. Ernst was moving faster than usual today, and he did not have to wait long. "Ernst." He said, leaning against the doorframe. To his amusement, Ernst was so startled to be addressed that he tripped and dropped his bag, spilling its contents everywhere. He smirked and approached Ernst, kneeling next to him and helping him replace the items strewn about.

"Th-thank you." Ernst stammered in his soft, light voice. "I can be so clumsy..."

Hanschen disregarded this and stood, offering the other boy a hand up. "Come to lunch with me." He said, before turning and beginning to leave. He expected the other boy to follow, and was not disappointed. While he began to wonder what to do with him, his attention was diverted.

"Hansi! Hanschen, wait up!" Georg called, he and Otto running to catch up with them. Vaguely irritated, Hanschen slowed his gait and turned to the pair.

"Perhaps if you two had finished more quickly, you wouldn't have had to run." He simply said before approaching a nearby tree and sitting under it. "Ernst will be eating with us today." He gazed at the smaller boy, who was standing a short distance away, obviously uncomfortable. "Ernst, sit and eat." He commanded, nodding toward the area next to him. Ernst obeyed, head bowed, refusing to make eye contact with the other boys.

As Georg began to regale them with a tale of yesterday's piano lesson, Hanschen turned to look at Ernst again. "Tell me why you didn't do your Latin." He ordered, softly enough so that Ernst was the only one who would hear.

Ernst froze for a moment, before slowly chewing and swallowing the piece of bread in his mouth. "I... I have been feeling ill lately." He replied slowly. "It is rather difficult to focus on my studies." He made eye contact with Hanschen, and Hanschen found fear in his eyes. Hanschen knew he intimidated Ernst; Hanschen intimidated many people. But Ernst had no reason to fear him, for the moment.

"Ill, you say?" He murmured, taking the opportunity to lean in closer and stare intently at Ernst. "Shall I take you to the matron? We cannot have you falling ill and neglecting your studies." His gaze fixed on Ernst, he pulled an apple out of his bag and took a bite.

Ernst shook his head vehemently. "No, no! It... it's nothing! I'm fine!" He protested, eyes now refocusing on something behind Hanschen.

"Ernst, are you well?" Melchior and Moritz had walked over to join the boys for lunch. Melchior sat next to Ernst and grasped his shoulder in a brotherly embrace. Moritz sat next to Georg on Ernst's other side: he steadily avoided looking at Hanschen.

"I'm alright; I-I've just been feeling somewhat... ill recently." Ernst replied warmly, a smile spreading across his face. It was obvious that Ernst held Melchior in rather high regard. This was not acceptable, but Hanschen held his tongue. For the moment. "I was simply... enjoying the view outside. The vineyard is in full bloom, and the fruits are weighing heavily on the trees. It is quite an extraordinary sight, and I'm afraid I quite forgot myself." He blushed and ducked his head, as he finished his bread and cheese.

Melchior smiled at him. "I see. It is quite understandable that you would be distracted." He pulled out his own food, passing some to Moritz, who mumbled his thanks and began to eat. They fell into companionable silence, listening and laughing at Georg and Otto's banter. After several minutes of this, Melchior turned back to Ernst. "You know, if you ever need help in your schoolwork-"

"I have already offered to tutor Ernst, Herr Gabor." Hanschen interrupted, his eyes narrowing. Ernst turned to look at him, confused. Hanschen ignored this and continued speaking to Melchior. "How is it that you have enough time to help Moritz with his studies and still do your own? Where would you find time to help Ernst, or are you simplying offering because you're such a hero? You simply have to help everyone, even those who do not need your help. It has become rather obnoxious. Seeking to prove that you are better than others simply proves that you are inferior." He did not need to raise his voice or shout to deliever this blow: his scathing words inflicted more damage in Hanschen's natural cold and detached deadpan.

Melchior flushed scarlet, his fists clenched, while Moritz conversely lost all color. Georg and Otto had fallen silent, waiting for the inevitable confrontation betwen Hanschen and Melchior. "Melchi, can we...?" Moritz tugged on the other boy's sleeve, pleading with his eyes.

The other boy deflated slightly, looking over at Moritz. "Yes." He stood up, pulling Moritz to his feet as well. "Ernst, if you ever need anything, let me know." He said, smiling slightly. With a friendly nod to Georg and Otto, and one last angry glance at Hanschen, he spun on his heel and headed back towards the school, Moritz several steps behind him.

Ernst looked at Hanschen. "Um, y-you didn't have to d-do that." He stammered, confusion evident on his features.

"On the contrary. Melchior and I have... shall we say, an unpleasant past." George and Otto nodded at this, turning back to each other and resuming their conversation from earlier. "I am more than willing to tutor you in your subjects, if that's agreeable to you." He slid himself a little closer to Ernst.

Ernst flushed slightly in response to how close the other boy was. "If you don't mind- I mean, I could certainly use the help, but I wouldn't wish to be a burden to you."

Hanschen's eyes bored into his. "Ernst. We're friends, aren't we?" It was not a question. "It is never a problem to assist my friends." He smirked, maintaining his intense eye contact with the smaller boy, until Ernst, flushing an even deeper red, looked away. This amused Hanschen greatly. "We'll start in the vineyard, after classes are finished." He gazed at Ernst for several moments, before standing and offering him a hand up. "Come, we musn't be late."

* * *

ii.

As soon as Herr Sonnenstitch dismissed them, Ernst grabbed his bag and headed towards Hanschen. Or, he started to, before Melchior grabbed his arm. "Ernst, can we talk?" Concern was apparent on his face, and Ernst darted a glance at Hanschen. Hanschen had already left, though, prompting Ernst to nod. "Let's walk together, okay?" Melchior dropped his arm and together, the two left the schoolhouse. Once they were a short distance away, Melchior stopped walking and stared at the sky. Ernst simply stood, tensely watching him.

Several minutes of silence passed, Ernst becoming more and more uncomfortable. Melchior Gabor was a very nice boy, but he greatly intimidated Ernst. He was very intelligent, well-liked by the girls and boys, and very handsome. He was several inches taller than Ernst, who barely came up to Melchior's chin. Whenever Ernst spent time with Anna, Ilse and the other girls, they would, on occasion, sit around and giggle over Melchior. He had always listened to these conversations with some degree of interest: he too found Melchior admirable and felt a small degree of attraction to him. They were friends, but not on the same level that, say, Melchior and Moritz were. Ernst wished that he had the confidence to strengthen their friendship, but simply could not overcome his introverted nature.

"How are you, Ernst?" Melchior's voice drew Ernst out of his trance. "I mean, honestly. Are you alright?" He walked over to Ernst, placing his hands on his shoulders. "You seem... different lately. Distracted."

Ernst swallowed, his mouth suddenly rather dry. "I just h-haven't been feeling well." He replied thickly, steadily avoiding eye contact.

"You don't have to lie to me." Melchior frowned, turning to face Ernst completely. "You can talk to me. Maybe I can help with whatever is bothering you." Seeing the determination and complete sincerity on his face, Ernst crumpled.

"It is strange..." Ernst began, turning his gaze toward the ground, "but I have been having strange thoughts and dreams lately. Not like Moritz's!" He assured Melchior quickly, "I am not haunted by phantom women and their stockings! But these... ideas," he turned his eyes to Melchior, pleading with him to understand, "are not normal! I do not understand them, nor do I wish to!" He cried out. "I just want-" He burst into tears and sunk to the ground. Melchior was beside him in two large strides, on his knees and comforting the smaller boy while he wept.

"Ernst." Melchior spoke after the boy's cries had subsided for a bit. "I think you should stay away from Hanschen Rilow."

Sniffling, Ernst lifted his head and looked at Melchior strangely. "Hanschen? Why?"

Melchior's face clouded over and he did not speak for a minute. Finally, when he did speak, he stared into the woods. "There is something not right with him. Something strange and frightening. I simply don't want you to be hurt."

"Really, Gabor. I had thought better of you." The smooth, cold tones of Hanschen's voice drifted to the other two boys. Melchior quickly stood up, leaving Ernst on the ground confused. "Anyone would think you were trying to lure Ernst away from me. How very," Hanschen's eyes narrowed and his smirk grew crueler, "suspicious of you." He looked at Ernst and his expression softened slightly. "Ernst, come. I promised you assistance with your assignments." He did not miss the pleading look Melchior gave Ernst as the small boy got to his feet. "Go home, Herr Gabor. I'm sure there's a damsel in a tower somewhere who needs saving."

Melchior clenched his fists. "You really are an unmitigated ass, Herr Rilow." He replied in a frosty tone. He sadly smiled at Ernst, before turning on his heel and storming off.

"Now then." Hanschen genially said, the icy expression on his face melting into what could almost be considered a smile. "Shall we go?" He held his hand out to Ernst, who stared at it a moment, before flushing slightly and taking it. Hanschen laced their fingers together, smirking at the smaller boy. He scrutinized Ernst's face, not entirely surprised to see a touch of fear in his eyes. This pleased Hanschen. He stopped dead and pulled Ernst toward him. "Are you frightened, little Ernst?" He stroked the other boy's cheek, his cold touch causing Ernst to shiver.

"Frightened?" He squeaked, trying to pull away, but Hanschen's grip remained firm. "Why should I be," he swallowed forcefully, "frightened?"

Hanschen smirked at this. "You have no reason to be frightened with me, Ernst. Melchior Gabor seeks to rise above the rest, like oil floats on water." His eyes narrowed and his smile slid into something more sinister. "Oil, however, is a pollutant. It sullies the pure and untainted water, destroying the resplendant life beneath its deep waters. I simply want to help you better yourself." He ran a long, thin finger down Ernst's tearstained cheek. "Ernst, I'm on your side."

He felt Ernst searching his face for something, but for what, Hanschen was not entirely sure. Not that it really mattered, Hanschen reasoned, he simply wanted the boy for himself. He wanted a pet of his very own: something none of the other boys could have or taint with their idiocies.

Especially Melchior Gabor.

"I trust you, Hanschen." Ernst shyly confided, not entirely making eye contact with the blonde.

Hanschen's smile returned, and Ernst was not entirely sure if he liked the glint in the other boy's eyes.

* * *

Moritz Stiefel had always been a nervous, twitchy little boy. His Mama had encouraged him to go play pirates with Melchior Gabor and the other boys near the stream, but Moritz had preferred to cling to his Mama's apron strings. Finally, his Papa had pulled him off of his Mama, telling him it was "high time he started acting like a young man" and deposited him outside with his neighbor and playmate Melchior. Melchior had simply smiled at him, grabbed his hand and pulled him to their own little corner of the world.

He had initially been taken aback at the sight of all of the other children playing in the grass and stream, but Melchior was already dragging him to meet his friends. "This is my best friend in the whole wide world, Moritz Stiefel." Melchior declared, wrapping an arm around Moritz's shoulders.

Moritz lit up like the sun at that. He was somebody's best friend? He had a best friend! Somebody to share his secrets and stories with, and he would hold his in turn. A best friend!

As the years went on, the group of friends grew even closer. At age ten, however, the schools split for the different sexes. Ernst and the girls shed many tears over the distance that would soon overwhelm their bond; Melchior, Moritz, Ilse and Wendla mourned the splitting of their pirate band. Melchior was upset at the loss of the fiery Ilse and gentle Wendla and began immersing himself in literature of progressive philosophists and theorists.

Moritz deeply felt the loss of his best friend. Granted, Melchior was still there, and they still played everyday, but Melchior seemed less interested in finding the buried treasure of the Great Pirate King and more interested in the flaws and intricacies of the church. Moritz just wanted his best friend back.

Until, one day, Moritz Stiefel made a new best friend.

* * *

iii.

Hanschen laid back on his bed, arms folded under his head. "Do you remember," He softly asked, relishing the warm breeze from the open window mussing his hair, "the story we're supposed to read for Ancient Greek?"

Ernst sat at Hanschen's desk, his gaze fixed out the window somewhere in the clouds. "Hmmm?"

"Ernst." Hanschen said as he sat up, "Come sit over here. The sky may be simply fascinating, but Ancient Greek mythology is the order of the moment."

The other boy flushed embarrassedly, tearing his gaze away from the window and looking at Hanschen. "I'm sorry. It's just so lovely outside, it seems a shame to spend the day studying in here." He stood and walked over to the bed, staring at it somewhat nervously. "Are you sure you d-don't mind me sitting here?"

"If I minded, I would not have told you to sit here." Hanschen replied, tersely smiling at Ernst. "Now then. Do you know the story we are supposed to read?"

"A little." Ernst admitted, sinking slowly onto the bed next to Hanschen. At the other boy's raised eyebrow, he elaborated, "My grandfather was a professor of Greek, and when I was very small, he would sit me on his lap by the fire and tell me stories about the gods and goddesses as he puffed away on his pipe. I don't quite remember this story, though." He gazed at his feet, somewhat abashed.

Hanschen gazed at Ernst for a moment. "I myself have read it through several times, but I find it tedious and overlong. Perhaps if I retell it, it would be easier for you to understand and, no doubt, more pleasant to listen to." He offered, leaning back on his elbows. At Ernst's nod of assent, he began to speak, his voice a pleasant rumble that caused warmth to blossom in Ernst's chest.

Ernst made every effort to listen to the taller boy, but Hanschen's words faded into a sort of white noise. Ernst instead found himself focusing on the blonde boy's features: eyes that were normally a steely gray were presently lit, as if by some unseen ember, with what might have been passion. As he spoke, his lips caressed each word as they left his mouth. This was an entirely different Hanschen than he had ever seen; this Hanschen was warm and radiated an intense sort of energy that Ernst felt drawing him in. He shook his head slightly and tried to refocus on Hanschen's words. Only now, too late, Ernst realized that Hanschen was silent.

"Might I inquire", Hanschen drolly asked, "as to what is so interesting now? Surely my storytelling isn't that abysmal." His lips, the lips that just moments before had been moving so beautifully, now curled into a smirk. The light in his eyes dimmed to a colder, harsher glow. Ernst shivered slightly.

"Not at all," Ernst protested, wringing his hands. "I... I have a stomachache." He finished lamely. Hanschen raised an eyebrow.

"I can have my mama make us some tea." He replied, eyeing the other boy. He knew Ernst's stomach was fine, he simply wasn't sure of why he was so distracted. The idea of Ernst's attention being elsewhere irritated him. Ernst was his number one priority, at least for the moment, the brunette could at least do him the courtesy of returning the favor. "Is something troubling you, Ernst?"

Ernst bit his lip; Hanschen bit back a smile. Ernst was silent for a moment, before, "Why are you being so nice to me?"

This was not what Hanschen was expecting, but he was pleased nonetheless. He schooled his face into a mask of innocence. "Have I not been nice to you before?" Ernst stammered for a moment, and Hanschen continued with a light laugh. "I like you, Ernst. You're a good Christian boy who doesn't need to be led down the wrong path by the wrong sorts of people." The irony of this statement was certainly not lost on him, and he let a sliver of a smirk blossom on his face. "I want to keep you on the right path. Don't you want to be my friend, Ernst?" His smirk could almost have passed for a smile, and for Ernst, it passed.

"Well, yes of course, but... I'm sorry." Ernst mumbled, looking at his hands abashedly. "I didn't mean to imply-"

"Of course not." Hanschen interrupted. "We are friends now, are we not?" The other boy nodded. "Then it doesn't matter." Hanschen finished, fixing his gaze out the window.

"Friends..." Ernst softly echoed as he looked at Hanschen, a small smile on his delicate face.

* * *

And there's the end of part one! Please review; it inspires me to keep going!


	2. Friendships and Secrets

**A/N**- Sorry for the delay; things have gotten insane for me lately. Rehearsals for 'Drood' (I'm Drood) are picking up, we're in performances for 'Oz' (which I'm directing) for the next couple of weekends, and starting Monday, I will be vocal director for a kids' summer camp production of 'Joseph'. I know, I know- I'm insane. On top of everything else, my muse (for this section of the story) decided to take a sabbatical with no notice, which sucked. But here we are with part two! I know it's moving kind of slow, but stick with me. It'll pick up soon! Updates will probably be sporadic through August- the entire month of which is devoted to performances of 'Drood'- but know that I'm still working on it! Reviews are loved, appreciated and inspiration to keep going! Thanks to those who have reviewed, added to their alerts and favorited! You guys are fantastic!

**Disclaimer-** Anything you recognize isn't mine. Petra, Mischa, Kurt von Ziegler, his family and their staff are my creations!

* * *

i.

Summer slowly faded into autumn, and Ernst made it a habit to go with Hanschen, Georg and Otto to lunch every day. He rarely spoke, preferring to simply sit and listen to the other boys speak. Hanschen also spoke very little, and the two would sit in companionable silences as Otto and Georg raucously laughed and joked. Ernst enjoyed this simple time with Hanschen, reclining in the cool shade of the trees and letting the wind blow his hair into his face.

"Ernst." Hanschen's voice was low, causing Ernst to lean into him a bit. Georg and Otto didn't notice, continuing to talk about Otto's lamentable crush on Marianna Wheelan. "I won't be here tomorrow." Hanschen informed the other boy, a thrill of pleasure shooting up his spine as Ernst's face fell. "My parents and I are going to Berlin to see friends of theirs. Their daughter is our age and they want us to become better acquainted. I could care less about Berlin or the daughter, but Mama and Papa insist that I go with."

Ernst swallowed heavily. He had seen Hanschen every day since they had become friends, what would he do without him? "How long will you be gone?"

"A week." He softly sighed, setting his apple core on the ground as he stared into the distance. The boys were silent for a moment, both contemplating the coming week. "You will miss me, won't you." It was not a question.

"Yes, of course I will! You're my best friend, Hanschen!" Ernst earnestly replied as he put away the remains of his lunch.

Hanschen merely smiled. "Good."

Ernst wasn't sure what to make of the other boy's reaction, so he looked around at his classmates. His gaze fell upon Melchior and Moritz a short distance away: both boys were huddled over a book and laughing at something Melchior seemed to be pointing out. He felt a vague ache in his chest; Hanschen would be gone for a week, and he wasn't entirely comfortable with Georg and Otto. Perhaps he would spend the week becoming better friends with Melchior and Moritz?

Hanschen followed Ernst's gaze to the other two boys and frowned. He didn't want Melchior Gabor going anywhere near Ernst and ruining all the progress he had made thus far, and God knew Gabor would do anything he could do break apart their freshly formed friendship. "Ernst, while I'm gone," he began, "stay after from Melchior Gabor."

Ernst's eyes widened. "Why? Surely there's no harm in being friends with him." He looked at Hanschen for a moment, curiousity gnawing at him. Hanschen evidently had issues with Melchior; he wondered what had transpired between the two boys to cause such animosity. Feeling a surge of confidence, Ernst asked Hanschen as much.

The blonde boy stared at Ernst unblinkingly for several moments. Finally, he spoke. "Melchior Gabor... is a fool. He suffers from delusions of grandeur and squanders what mediocre intelligence he has on idiotic subjects, such as the shortcomings of the church." Ernst did not look satisfied by this explanation, so Hanschen stated, "All you need to concern yourself with is that at some point, the professors will notice his deliquency, and you do not want yourself associated with that boy." Hanschen's face softened slightly and he lowered his tone, "It is simply a week. You'll be fine."

A small smile crept across Ernst's face. "A week isn't too long." He replied after a moment, staring at his shoes.

"Indeed." There now was a trail of ants crawling to his apple core, Hanschen noticed. His eyes narrowed, and he casually began squashing the ants one by one. Ernst watched him in confusion, eventually staring at Hanschen's hands. His fingers were long and elegant, the nails kept clean and short. They were beautiful hands, really, almost feminine in their shape and grace, except that they were now cruelly squashing ants. Ernst then wondered why he was admiring Hanschen's hands so: certainly an odd thing to do. But Hanschen hadn't noticed, he was almost delicately smashing the remaining ants with his index and middle fingers. Ernst shivered; he genuinely liked Hanschen, but sometimes, there was something chilling about the other boy. There was now a trail of corpses leading away from the apple core.

"Why did you do that?"

Hanschen looked at him in surprise. "Do what?"

"The ants..." Ernst faintly replied. For some reason, he felt nauseous.

"They're just ants, Ernst. There are millions more in the world, what did those ants matter?" His tone was detached. "We should get back to school." He said in a louder tone, directing this statement also to Georg and Otto. He stood, the other boys following suit, and began to head back. He did not turn to see if Ernst was following.

Ernst shivered again before standing and walking back. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong with what had just happened.

* * *

ii.

The Rilow family left early the next morning and boarded the train for Berlin. Hanschen's family had their own private compartment; Hans Rilow was a prominent banker, commuting often between Berlin and home, who came from old money. He was a tall, fair-haired man with dark brown eyes set in a strong face. He was a stern man with a tendency towards discipline, saving affection only for his wife. Petra Rilow, originally Petra Fiedler, also came from old money. She was a quiet woman, soft-spoken and gentle. She was very beautiful: fair skin, grey eyes and dark hair. She and Hans had not known each other well before being married, but over the years, they had developed an affection for each other. Hanschen also had a little sister, Mischa, who was four. She had inherited her mother's hair and temperment, but had her father's eyes.

The family sat quietly in the compartment for the majority of the trip, Mischa sleeping on her mother's lap. Hanschen was content to simply look at the window and watch the German countryside fly past his window. He certainly did not wish to think about what awaited him in Berlin: a tedious week spent drinking tea with his parents, a girl and her parents. He also did not want to think about his friends at home, more specifically, Ernst. He had a sneaking suspicion that Melchior Gabor would pounce on Ernst the moment he realized that Hanschen was gone. He bit back a sneer.

"Hanschen?"

He looked away from the window and turned to look at his father. "Yes?"

His father sat across from him, a slight frown on his face. "I want you to be on your best behavior while we're in Berlin. Kurt von Ziegler is like a brother to me, and his wife and your mother are very good friends."

Hanschen simply looked at his father. "Of course, sir." He replied, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

"They have a daughter who is around your age. It would be in your best interest, Hanschen, if you became friendly with the girl." Herr Rilow had an almost threatening tone to his voice, which was rather unusual for the man.

Hanschen suddenly understood: his parents meant to arrange a marriage for him with this girl. A tiny smirk crept onto his face. He had absolutely no intention of marrying some girl that his parents had picked for him. However, there was no reason to ruin this family outing by announcing his intentions (or lack thereof), so he forced a smile. "Of course, sir." He repeated.

His father scrutinized his face before nodding and moving next to his wife, wrapping an arm around her. Hanschen watched them for a moment and then scoffed, turning back to the window. He had always assumed his parents would arrange a marriage with one of the girls from the village- perhaps Anna Schafer or Thea Kaufmann, or even Marianna Wheelan- one of the girls he had distantly known whom he could continue to distantly know, even once they were sharing a house. The idea of marrying someone he had never met before repulsed him. He leaned his head against the window, the cool glass pressing against his warm face. He didn't even need to start thinking about marriage for several years, he mused as his breath ghosted over the glass. He dismissed the thought and resumed staring out the window.

An hour or so later, the family arrived in Berlin. The air was heavy with the smell of industry, cooking meat and oil, causing his mother to cough heavily for several minutes as his father signaled for a hack. Hanschen tried to ignore the unpleasant taste the air left in his mouth as he helped his mother and sister into the carriage. Berlin was an impressive city, booming with industry and modern advancements, but the streets were dirty and filled with the poor. Hanschen's nose wrinkled in distaste. He was all for progress, but something needed to be done about the state of the city. The driver finished loading up their baggage and cracked his whip; the hack began to move rather bumpily through the streets. Just when Hanschen thought he was going to be sick, the carriage slowed to a stop in front of a brick house that Hanschen supposed was large for being in the city. Several servants came from behind the house and began to unload their baggage as an imposing man approached the carriage from the front door.

"Hans!" The man shouted, his voice deep and resonant. This, Hanschen assumed, was Kurt von Ziegler. He had deep set dark eyes, a square jaw and a well-trimmed dark beard.

"Kurt!" His father returned the greeting with a smile, stepping down from the carriage and shaking Kurt's hand. Hanschen lifted Mischa from his mother's lap, carrying her with him as he stepped down from the carriage. "You remember my son, Hanschen?"

Herr von Ziegler laughed, his eyes crinkling up. He was much less intimidating up close, Hanschen decided. "The last time I saw you," Herr von Ziegler said, "you barely reaches my knees. And now here you are, nearly a grown man!" He extended his hand.

Hanschen had been unaware that he had met the man before, but he shook the man's hand with a proud smile that was almost a smirk. "_Die Zeit vergeht im Sauseschritt_, Herr von Ziegler."

"Please, please. Call me Kurt, Hanschen." The older man told him, glancing at Mischa in his arms. "And who is this little darling?"

Herr Rilow gently took Mischa from Hanschen and set her down. "This is my little Mischa. Mischa, this is my good friend, Herr von Ziegler." Hanschen watched his little sister suck her thumb into her mouth as Kurt knelt next to her with a serious face.

"It is lovely to meet you, Mischa." He told her, taking her free hand and planting a gentle kiss on the back of it. She giggled as he stood back up with a smile, his eyes falling on Hanschen's mother. "Petra," He called as he walked over to the carriage, "you're as lovely as ever. It is wonderful to see you." He took her hand, helping her down from the hack. She flushed lightly as she embraced him.

"Kurt, you are absolutely charming." Frau Rilow smiled as she joined her husband and children. "Where are Astrid and Liesl?"

"Liesl is at finishing school in Switzerland; she'll be home in time for Christmas." Kurt replied, exchanging glances with Herr Rilow. "Astrid is inside; she should be ensuring that dinner is ready." He smiled at the family. "Shall we go in?"

Hanschen breathed an almost silent sigh of relief. He would not have to meet the girl or endure his parents' plans for betrothal. Perhaps this trip wouldn't be as bad as he had thought, he contemplated as he followed Kurt and his family inside.

* * *

iii.

Ernst turned his blackboard in to Herr Sonnenstitch, gathered his things and began walking outside, all alone. Georg and Otto had not bothered to wait for him: without Hanschen there, they were not interested in the smaller boy. This was the second day that Hanschen was in Berlin, and Ernst was surprised by the sudden pangs of loneliness that washed over him. The previous day, he had eaten his lunch under a tree between where he usually sat with Hanschen and where Melchior and Moritz were eating. The lunch hour had slowly passed while he sat and ate, listening to Melchior and Moritz laughing with each other. He sighed as he reached that same tree and sat down. He wished Hanschen would return. He had grown accustomed to the other boy's constant presence, and now the solitude that he had grown up with was cold and unfamiliar.

"Ernst, come sit with us."

His head snapped up. Melchior stood in front of him with a smile on his face, Moritz just slightly behind him. "There's no reason for you to be sitting alone."

Ernst swallowed, feeling vaguely nervous. He did want to join the other boys, but Hanschen had warned him before he left about Melchior. He still didn't understand the animosity between the two, but Melchior had always been very nice to Ernst. He contemplated the fact that Hanschen wasn't even here, who was to say that he'd find out? A small smile made its way across his face. "Okay." He said quietly, inwardly amazed at his moment of courage. He regathered his things and climbed to his feet.

Melchior's smile grew. "Good." He said once Ernst was standing. The three boys began walking toward Melchior and Moritz's tree. "You should sit with us more often. It has been a long time since we've actually spent time together." Melchior commented.

Ernst nodded mutely, vaguely confused. Just the other day, he and Melchior had talked on the way home from school. He wondered if Melchior had forgotten, but didn't question the other boy. The trio sat down under the shade of the tree and began eating. Moritz asked Melchior something about his older brother, Friedrich, but Ernst wasn't quite listening. He let their voices transform into white noise, staring blankly at his bread and cheese. He had always enjoyed the company of the other boys, but knowing that there was hostility between Hanschen and Melchior made him uncomfortable around the boys. He had noticed when he and Hanschen had discussed Melchior that Hanschen had completely avoided the subject, but decided against pressing him further. He looked at Melchior now, the other boy smiling as he told Moritz about his brother's recent marriage. Ernst made a decision, then: it didn't matter if Hanschen didn't get along with Melchior, he would be friends with him anyway. He would simply have to hide it from Hanschen.

"What a-about you, Ernst?" Moritz's shaky voice startled him out of his reverie.

"Huh?"

"If you had to choose a girl from the village to marry, who would it be?" Melchior asked.

Ernst's eyes widened. "Marry? A girl?" He had honestly never given it thought before. In all of his fantasies of being a country pastor, his wife had always been a pleasant-looking stranger, never anyone that he had actually known. The girls in the village were his friends- he could no more marry them than he could Hanschen! He paused at that thought briefly, before shaking it off. Utter nonsense.

"It's just a g-game, Ernst." Moritz smiled somewhat shyly at him. "When we were young, you and Anna seemed very cl-close." He pointed out. Ernst smiled gratefully at him, There was an idea!

"I suppose... I would choose Anna. She is one of my very dearest friends."

"I would marry Ilse N-Neumann." Moritz announced, his smile growing. This was the most extroverted Ernst had seen him in a long time. "She was always the most fu-fun of all the girls- she didn't care about her dress getting di-dirty while running or playing pirates!" His smile turned wistful, he gazed down at his fidgeting hands.

"Ilse Neumann... whatever happened to her?" Ernst asked. It had been years since he had seen her, he realized suddenly.

Melchior and Moritz exchanged uneasy glances. "Ilse ran away from home." Melchior finally told him after several moments of silence. Before Ernst could ask why, Melchior continued, "Her father severely beat her. She told us there was more to it than that, but never elaborated. When we would see her at the market, she would be covered in bruises. The night before she left, she told Moritz she was leaving. She refused to tell him where, only that she would be safe and happy. And then she left."

"When did she leave?" Ernst asked in a horrified whisper.

"Three years ago." Moritz replied, equally as softly.

The boys sat in silence, each contemplating the fate of the fiery Ilse. Ernst had heard whispers of parents beating their sons if they had done something awful, but he had never heard of anyone beating their daughter. The idea was nauseating. Ernst himself was not particularly strong, but girls were incredibly fragile and delicate, or so his parents had told him. He and Anna had always had tea parties and played games where he, the prince, would rescue the beautiful maiden, Anna, and they would get married and rule the kingdom. The idea of anyone hurting Anna made his stomach clench: she was like a sister to him! "That's horrible." He murmured, picking at the grass.

"I wish I co-could be as strong as her." Moritz mumbled.

"What do you mean, Moritz?" Melchior asked.

Moritz flushed; apparently, he had not intended for his statement to be heard. "I m-mean, um, she... ah, nevermind. It's n-not important." He ducked his head in embarrassment.

Melchior scooted closer to the boy, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "Yes it is. Go on."

Moritz took a deep breath. "I wish I could leave, too. I-I'm not being beaten by my father, but..." He sighed."I j-just feel like I don't belong here."

Melchior squeezed his best friend's shoulders, staying silent. Ernst gaped at Moritz. "I feel the same way." He admitted quietly. The two boys looked at him. "I have always wanted to leave this place. When I was younger, I wanted to move further out into the country and be the pastor of a small church." A small smile spread across his face. "Now, I... I think I'd like to move to Berlin." He finally said. "There is something appealing about the anonymity of living in a city: you can simply disappear if you choose to. I'd like that." He smiled and Moritz smiled at each other. Apparently, the two had more in common than they had thought.

"Lunch is almost over." Melchior stated, standing slowly and stretching. "Ernst, Moritz is coming to my house after classes are over to study Latin. Do you want to come?"

Ernst paused momentarily, thinking of Hanschen, before nodding with a small smile. "That would be nice." He stood and walked back to the building with Melchior and Moritz.

He ate lunch with them every day for the rest of the week.

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_Die Zeit vergeht im Sauseschrit _means "Time flies".

Please review!


	3. Secrets and Lies

**A/N**- I know it has been an unforgivably long time, but real life/writer's block have gotten in the way. I have not forgotten about this story and I promise you, I will finish it! Hopefully, in the coming year, life will be a bit easier, allowing more time to write and work on this piece. Just so you have an idea of where we're at, we're about a quarter of the way through the story at the end of this chapter, and halfway through part one. Part two will be the main story explored, but we need to set the stage in part one.

In other news, I'd love a beta who would be open to bouncing ideas back and forth with me! If you're interested, please let me know!

Without any further ado, here's the third chapter of Ways A Man Can Go!

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i.

The day that Hanschen returned was bright and clear; pleasantly warm with a cool breeze. As soon as Hanschen reached his room, he threw the windows open and took a deep breath, allowing the fresh, clean air to fill his lungs. He had enjoyed Berlin and had not minded the pollution in the air, but he was just now realizing how much he had missed the fresh air of his little town. Kurt and Astrid von Ziegler treated Hanschen like another son, making the trip much more pleasurable than he had previously anticipated. Hanschen and his father had even accompanied Kurt on several trips to his gentlemen's club, which Hanschen had immediately taken to. The lavish environment, the thick fragrance of cigar smoke hanging in the air, the intelligent conversations these men of means were having... he felt as if he were walking in a dream world. He decided then and there that this was where he wanted to spend his life: sitting amongst men of power and means, discussing how to run the world.

There was a light tapping on his door, and Mischa walked in. "I wanna go outside and Mama says you hafta take me." She softly said, her words somewhat garbled. She had the china doll their father bought for her in Berlin wrapped in her arms, her face just barely peeking out over the doll's head.

Hanschen smiled and walked over to her, taking her tiny hand and crouching to her level. "And where would you like to go, little Mischa?" There was only one person in the world who Hanschen actually loved, and it was Mischa. He cared for his parents, of course, and Ernst was becoming a prominent part of his life, but love was reserved solely for Mischa. She was sweet and gentle and soft-spoken with an utter desire to please everyone, and Hanschen was the center of her world. She had her own seperate room and bed, but she tended to come into Hanschen's room at night and snuggle against him. Hanschen was incredibly protective of her and welcomed her with open arms.

"To the stream please, Hanschen." She replied, her somber dark eyes gazing into his. "We wanna rope swing."

"Of course." He replied as he stood again, still holding her hand. "Shall we bring lunch?" She simply nodded and the two left his room for the kitchen, ready to pack a picnic. Hanschen vaguely wondered what Ernst was doing, but shrugged the thought off. He could see Ernst later; for now, he was taking care of his sister.

ii.

The two boys were stripped down to their undershirts and pants, smoking cigarettes with their feet dangling in the water. They huddled together examining a pamphlet that the taller boy had written. It was filled with heavily detailed drawings of the male and female genitalia and lengthy paragraphs on the functions of each and how the two worked together.

Ernst wrinkled his nose, feeling mildly nauseated. "So... when the man puts his..." He blushed, embarrassed, "...penis... inside of the woman, she becomes pregnant?"

"Not necessarily." Melchior replied. "Although it is very likely. There are methods of preventing conception... but I'm not entirely sure of what they are or how they work."

Ernst stared into the water, watching tiny little fish nibble at his toes. The very idea of doing such a thing seemed dirty and disgusting. He inhaled deeply, the smoke from the cigarette filling his lungs, before exhaling in a cloud toward the water. "I don't know if I could ever do that." He admitted quietly, watching the smoke weave indistinct patterns across the water's surface. "I would think it would be terrifically uncomfortable."

Melchior shrugged, flicking ashes into water. "I wouldn't know." He distantly replied. "According to my research, it is only uncomfortable for the woman. It is supposed to be quite the experience for the man." He eyed Ernst for a moment. "Is this making you uncomfortable, Ernst? We can talk about something else."

"I... I don't know." Ernst mumbled uneasily.

Melchior contemplated him through the haze of his smoke. "You don't need to follow what is written, Ernst. It is wrong to do something simply because it is what is expected of you. My mama and papa expect me to grow up and become a lawyer or a professor, but it is not what I want! I want to do something that will change the world! I want to make a difference, even if it means defying what is expected of me!" He almost shouted.

Ernst stared at him in amazement. He couldn't imagine doing anything that rash, even speaking of going against his parents' wishes made him wince. "My mama and papa wish for me to be a pastor..." He quietly said, looking up at Melchior. "I rather like the idea of spending my days reading the Bible and spreading the Lord's word to the masses."

Melchior laughed and shook his head. "You're so much better than that, Ernst! The Bible is just a series of fairytales and fables put together to enthrall the populus into a certain way of thinking! A way that will surely empty everyone's wallets, sooner rather than later, all for the good of the church and the glory of God! It's all nonsense!"

"Hush, stop!" Ernst cried, eyes wide and frightened. "You're speaking blasphemies!" He scrambled to his feet, inadvertantly splashing Melchior and drenching the bank of the stream. "You might be convinced that there is no God and that the world is going to ...Hell, but...but," he struggled to pull his shoes on, "But I disagree!" There were now tears spilling down his face. How could anyone say such awful things and not feel the utter abject shame of it? He angrily wiped his tears with his shirtsleeves, before yanking it over his head. "Maybe you feel joy at defying the expectations laid before you by your parents but I do not! Making other people happy brings me joy and that is what I shall do!" He spun on his heel, all at once terrified and elated that he stood up to Melchior Gabor, before running into something very hard and very still. He stumbled back a bit, taking a moment to recover before opening his eyes.

Hanschen stood before him with a smirk, eyes blazing, clutching the hand of a small, dark-haired child. "Bravo, Ernst." Still holding the little girl's hand, he crouched down to help Ernst to his feet. "I've never heard such an impassioned speech from you before." He shifted his focus to Melchior, narrowing his eyes. "It's about time someone else put Herr Gabor in his place." Ernst was taken aback. Hanschen had returned from Berlin, just to show up unexpectedly when he was with Melchior and now that he was here, Ernst had no idea what to say to him.

Melchior leapt to his feet, face burning, eyes hard. "Now see here, Rilow-"

Hanschen simply held his hand up to shush Melchior. He knelt down next to the little girl with a gentle smile that neither Melchior nor Ernst had seen before. "Mischa, liebchen, this is my good friend Ernst Robel." Ernst flashed her an anxious smile. "Why don't you take him and Greta," Hanschen gently tapped the doll's chest, "to the swing? You can lay out our picnic, if you'd like. I will be there in a moment."

The dark-eyed girl nodded solemnly. "Yes, Hanschen." A small smile blossomed across her face as she shyly turned toward Ernst. "Herr Robel? Would you like to come make a picnic with us?" She held out her hand expectantly. Ernst smiled at her, took her small hand in his and let her lead the way, anxiously glancing back over his shoulder at the two boys now glaring at each other on the banks of the stream.

Hanschen waited for Ernst and Mischa to be out of earshot before he turned his attention to Melchior. "Well, well, well. It would seem that the situation is now reversed."

"Shut up!" Melchior growled, hands clenched at his sides. "It is hardly the same thing!"

Hanschen cruelly laughed, folding his arms. "Oh, I rather disagree. He doesn't want anything to do with you or your radical ideas-"

"Shut UP!"

"-which to me, sounds like approximately the same circumstance. Just because you haven't touched him-"

"SHUT UP, HANSCHEN!"

"-doesn't mean that you're not forcing yourself and your idiotic philosophies on him!"

CRACK.

Melchior lashed his fist out, catching Hanschen across the jaw. His head snapped to the side with the impact, the blow causing him to stumble back several steps. "HANSCHEN!" Mischa screamed from a distance away. Hanschen blearily opened his eyes to see Ernst holding onto her, his eyes wide with terror and shock. Hanschen shook his head briefly, clutching his jaw as pain enveloped his world. Melchior stood before him, breathing heavily, shaking with rage. Hanschen clenched his eyes shut and with a low grunt, threw himself at Melchior, fists flying.

Hanschen could not see anything- it was all a blur of limbs and pain and red and black, flying too fast for his eyes to focus on a single image. His mind races for something, anything to latch on to, to give him an advantage... and he gets it.

"Ungfh!" Melchior gasped, clutching at his stomach in the fetal position and rolling away. There were bruises swiftly developing on his face and a thin trickle of blood dribbling from his mouth. Hanschen didn't want to think about how he himself must look.

"I believe I have made my point." Hanschen stated quietly as he walked over to the stream. Not stopping to see the damage inflicted, he cupped water in his hands and splashed it over his face. His eyes and lip stung and his jaw was throbbing, but he seemed to be alright, he thought. He slowly made his way back over to where Melchior laid on the ground, groaning softly. "It is over. Stay out of my affairs, Gabor, and I'll leave you to your own."

Melchior hazarded a glance in Ernst's direction, but the pain in his head and stomach were too great. "Fine, fine." He wheezed, venomously glaring at Hanschen. "I suppose it is impossible to save the entire world."

A cold smile grew across Hanschen's face. "Indeed." He turned toward Ernst and Mischa and made his way over to them. Ernst let Mischa go and she immediately hopped to her feet and ran to him.

"Hansi, Hansi! Are you alright, Hansi?" She cried, throwing herself into his arms and burying her face in his chest. He winced at the impact but stayed silent, wrapping his arms around his little sister.

"_Sehr sogar_, Mischa." He reassured her, lifting her up and carrying her back to where Ernst was waiting. "It was nothing."

"What happened?" Ernst asked as they drew nearer, stifling at gasp upon seeing Hanschen's face. His lip was split open and there was a small gash above his left eye, but the most prominent of all was the left side of his face, near his jawline. It was a nasty watercolor of yellow, blue and purple. Ernst felt sick. What had Hanschen said to enrage Melchior that much?

"Nothing. He won't be bothering us any longer." Hanschen said shortly, gently setting his sister down on the blanket before sitting down himself. "Now then," He pleasantly continued, as though he had not just been in a brawl and it was a perfectly normal afternoon, "shall we eat?"

iii.

Ernst stared at his feet as he trod the well-worn path home. It had been a strange day for him: he never yelled at anyone, let alone Melchior Gabor, whom he had idolized until today. He had always admired Melchior's self-confidence and intelligence; he had thought him the most brilliant boy in the class. But hearing the way he felt about God and the church, things Ernst held very dear to his heart, had triggered something in Ernst that he had never known before, and seeing how easily he came to blows with Hanschen scared him. Hanschen had done his share of damage to the other boy, clearly, but Hanschen had not struck until after Melchior had attacked him. Melchior seemed to simply lash out, unprovoked. He shuddered.

Something about Hanschen had made him initially uneasy, but as time passed, he noticed it less often. He supposed that the blonde boy's cordial manners and cool demeanor made him difficult to open up to initially, but Ernst was more comfortable around him now. Especially since Hanschen went out of his way to make Ernst feel at home. As he, Hanschen and Mischa sat down to eat, Hanschen passed half of his food to the other boy wordlessly as he regaled him with his adventures in Berlin. Hanschen had sounded so happy as he described the city's wonders to him, as if all he wanted to do was to board the next train back. Upon seeing Ernst's nervous face, Hanschen simply laughed and told him not to worry. "I won't be returning to Berlin for another year, at least." He had patted Ernst's hand and returned to his meal. Watching Hanschen care for and interact with Mischa calmed Ernst's anxieties about Hanschen's character. How could this boy, who so lovingly cut up the meat and cheese into smaller bites for his sister and her doll, be someone worth hating or fearing? No, Ernst determined, Melchior was wrong about Hanschen. Melchior was wrong about many things.

He kicked at a clod of dirt, sighing. He wasn't entirely sure why the fight was bothering him so much; it hadn't involved him at all. He couldn't shake Hanschen's bruised and bleeding face nor Melchior's curled up form from his mind.

"Ernst?"

He blinked before looking up to see Moritz standing a short distance away, hair disheveled with his hands shoved in his pockets. His socks had fallen to his ankles, leaving an awkward patch of bare white skin. Ernst tentatively smiled at him. "Hello, Moritz." Taking a closer look at the other boy, he asked, "Is everything alright?"

Moritz laughed self-deprecatingly. "Nothing unusual; my father is unhappy with my work at school." He squinted at Ernst. "What about you? You look upset."

Ernst hesitated. He was reluctant to discuss what had happened by the stream earlier, but Moritz was Melchior's best friend. Maybe he knew what the source of their fighting was. It couldn't hurt to ask; if he didn't know or couldn't say, then that would be that. "...There was a fight earlier, at the stream." He said slowly. "Between Hanschen and Melchior."

Moritz tensed and let out a strained laugh. "Those two are always quibbling over one thing or another. It was probably nothing."

Ernst shook his head. "Not this time. They came to blows; Melchior struck Hanschen across the face, so Hanschen jumped on him. They fought on the ground until Hanschen got Melchior in the stomach. I didn't hear what they said to each other before." He looked Moritz in the eye with a strange surge of confidence. "Do you know why they fight?"

The other boy froze. His eyes darted around for a moment. "I, uh, I don't know what you mean."

Ernst sighed. "Yes, you do, Moritz. Melchior tells you everything. I want to know why they hate each other so much." He wasn't entirely sure where this newfound courage had come from, but he hoped it lasted long enough to get him the answers he desired.

"They have good reason to not like each other! Hanschen is strange and terrifying!" Moritz exclaimed, eyes wild as they roved the area around them. "Stay away from him, Ernst, if you know what's good for you! He's unnatural!"

Ernst grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him slightly. "What's wrong with him, then? What has he done?" As Moritz began to shake his head, Ernst tightened his grip on his shoulders. "TELL ME, MORITZ."

"ALRIGHT!" Moritz shouted, quaking in Ernst's surprisingly strong grasp. "I'll tell you." He miserably said, casting his eyes to the ground. "It was several years ago..."

_Moritz sat underneath his favorite tree, tracing patterns in the dirt with a stick. Hanschen was supposed to meet him here soon, but Moritz was impatient. The house was dark and stuffy and it was just newly spring, the air crisp, cool and refreshing to his aching lungs. The sun was almost too bright after so many months of darkness but Moritz didn't care- he was simply happy to be outside again! It was awfully hard to be a mangy pirate horde inside their houses, so on the first sunny day, he and Hanschen made plans to return to the stream to hunt for buried treasure._

_ Hanschen soon joined him and the two immediately were pirates, swashbuckling and brave on their search. They slayed ravenous sea monsters and resisted the ominous call of the sirens before landing on an island populated by cannibalistic natives. "Okay," Hanschen said to him, breaking character briefly, "You be the princess who got captured with the treasure, and I'll be the pirate who rescues you! Then we can switch and you can rescue me!"_

_ Moritz wrinkled his nose. "I don't wanna be a princess! I wanna be the pirate!"_

_ "Please? We'll take turns!" Hanschen pleaded._

_ Moritz pouted. Princesses were not what he had in mind when he agreed to play pirates. But at least he'd get to rescue the princess too, so he agreed. He gathered up the treasure (several loose buttons, a book of fables, two leaves and a broken shoelace) and climbed up onto the lowest branch of his favorite tree. "Oooh save me, pirate! Please!" He cried in a high-pitched little voice, fighting back giggles._

_ "Do not fear, fair maiden!" Hanschen cried, raising his sword (stick) high into the air before battling several invisible foes. Moritz soon grew bored watching Hanschen duel the air and laid back on the branch, watching the clouds through the leaves. He was beginning to doze off when the branch shook. He sat up to find Hanschen crouched next to him on the branch, panting heavily. "I'm here to rescue you, princess!"_

_ Moritz smiled. FINALLY! He'd get to be the pirate soon and make Hanschen wait even longer to be rescued! "Oh thank you, brave pirate! What shall I give you for your reward?" He turned to grab the treasure and as he turned back around, Hanschen had grabbed his arms and had mashed their lips together. His lips were too wet and he was being held too tightly and HANSCHEN WAS KISSING HIM. Moritz made a screeching noise, deep in the back of his throat, and scrambled to get out of Hanschen's grasp, falling out of the tree in the process. He shrieked in pain at the impact and started to run, anywhere, anywhere, just away from the blonde boy who sat silently in the tree._

_ "Moritz? Moritz! Are you okay?" He heard Melchior's voice nearby and ran in that direction. He crashed directly into his old best friend and began sobbing into his chest. As Melchior calmed him down, he told him everything. Pirates, treasure, princesses, the kiss in the tree. As he finished, sobbing quietly, he looked up at the other boy. Melchior's eyes were alight with a look he'd never seen before and hoped he'd never see again. He followed Melchior's gaze to see Hanschen slinking away through the trees, glancing back over his shoulder only once and stopping to return Melchior's glare, before continuing on his way. He laid his head back on Melchior's chest, as his sobs slowed to hiccups. _

_ "I didn't want it, Melchi. I didn't like it..." He mumbled several moments later, pulling away and looking at Melchior. Melchior's face immediately softened as he regarded his best friend._

_ "I know, Moritz. It's okay. I won't let him get near you again."_

Ernst staggered back, releasing Moritz as he finished his tale. Both boys were white as sheets. "Do you understand now?" Moritz whispered, finally looking Ernst in the eye.

Ernst was speechless. He simply nodded once before spinning on his heel and heading into the dark, towards his home.

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Please review!


	4. Regaining Control

**A/N- Hello again! It's been far too long, but my muse seems to be very fickle with me on this piece. I know exactly what I want to happen, but getting there is quite the challenge. Still, I'm plugging away at it and hopefully this fic will finish before we're all dead from old age. Thanks to those who have this story favorited, on alert and of course, to those who are reviewing! It really does help motivate me to write! **

**I do apologize for how short this chapter is, but I thought it was the right place to end it. **

**There is a possibility of seeing a snippet from much later in this fic, depending on feedback and interest level, you may get to see it! It will be set near the beginning of the second World War, where a good chunk of this fic takes place. (Didn't know that? Go read my fic Goodbye Until Tomorrow!) Let me know what you think!**

**Also, lastly- if you like Legally Blonde, I did just write a fic called A Study in Pink, feel free to check it out!**

**Please enjoy this chapter!**

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Hanschen and Mischa returned home just before sunset, smelling freshly baked bread and cooking meat as they walked through the door. Mischa immediately trotted over to their mama, hugging her legs, as Hanschen headed to wash up and treat his injuries. He smiled slightly as he gingerly applied the medicine to his cuts, relishing the faint sting in his flesh. Today had been marvelous, he thought to himself. It had been ages since he had felt so exhilarated. Beating Melchior Gabor was in and of itself a triumph, but being able to do just that in front of Ernst? A delicious shudder ran up his spine. He had definitely achieved his goal of keeping Ernst under his thumb. Hanschen recalled the moments that he and Mischa had been approaching the duo when he had heard Ernst call the other boy out on his blasphemous ideas. He had accomplished exactly what he had set out to do, so what now, he pondered. What to do with his new pet?

"Hanschen! It's time for supper!" His mother called from downstairs, shaking him from his train of thought. He frowned slightly, before headed downstairs to join his family for their evening meal. He sat down silently at the table, giving Mischa a small smile. As Petra came to his side to serve his food, she gasped. "Good heavens, Hanschen! What happened to your face?"

Herr Rilow looked over at his son with a frown. "I certainly hope the other boy is worse off than you." He said rather sourly.

Hanschen nodded curtly. "It was a scuffle with a boy from school, Mama. And yes, Papa, he is much worse off than me."

"Who was it?" His father asked, eyes narrowing. "Was it the Gabor boy?" Hanschen nodded again. "Good." Herr Rilow declared, motioning that his wife sit down. "That boy is a dangerous radical. Nothing good can come of this boy being in your school." He was silent for a moment, before gesturing to the rest of the family. They all bowed their heads as he said a blessing for the meal.

"Still," His mother said once the grace was said and everyone began to eat, "I do wish that you wouldn't fight. It's such a common practice and you're much better than that, Hanschen."

"Nonsense," His father replied. "All boys fight, it's a rite of passage. Good for you, son!"

"It was necessary," Hanschen informed his mother grimly. "He was speaking blasphemies to a friend of mine who is easily impressionable and would not back down in his vehemence to spread lies against God and the church. When I tried to stop him, he punched me in the jaw. I only defended myself and ended the fight."

His father reached over and clapped him on the shoulder. "That's my boy," He proudly said, "you're a smart, strong lad with a strong moral compass. You always do the right thing."

Hanschen bit back a smirk. Strong moral compass indeed.

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The next day dawned a dreary grey, bringing a distinct chill with the wind. Hanschen took care to dress in one of his thicker pairs of woolen socks and one of his warmer school jackets. There was something in the air that made Hanschen anxious to get to school, so he quickly packed his lunch and headed down the path to Ernst's house. He had dreamt of Ernst the previous night, similar to the fantasies that he had whilst touching himself. The smaller boy's thin lips, lithe figure and cool, soft hands had been haunting his thoughts and dreams for the past several weeks. It was only this morning that Hanschen realized that he wanted to do something about it. After all, Ernst would do whatever he asked, and it was quite the opportunity since he'd be moving to Berlin after he had completed his studies in town. No one needed to know except for Ernst and himself. He could get what he wanted from the other boy before heading off to begin his new life in Berlin as a banker and marrying the von Ziegler's daughter. Not ideal, but certainly a comfortable enough future.

He was approaching Ernst's house and found that the other boy was not outside waiting for him, which was unusual. They always walked together in the morning; perhaps Ernst was not feeling well? He stepped up to the house and smartly rapped on the door. After several moments, the door opened and Frau Robel stuck her head out. "Why hello Hanschen." She said with a small smile. "What can I do for you?"

"Good morning Frau Robel." He returned politely. "Is Ernst ill? We usually walk together."

She frowned slightly. "No, Ernst left for school about ten minutes ago."

Hanschen raised an eyebrow. "Ah. I must have just missed him. Thank you, Frau Robel. Good morning." As she returned his farewell, he turned back to the path to school with a frown. Why would Ernst walk without him? He certainly was not running late, Ernst had shown him the week's homework and they had worked together, so Ernst wasn't rushing to complete an assignment. Something was off. Something was off and Hanschen did not like it. Bowing his head against the wind, he set off on the path to school, walking quickly and puzzling over the mysterious lack of Ernst. The brunet boy had been perfectly fine when Hanschen had left him last afternoon, all smiles and good humor after the initial unpleasantness with Gabor. He had talked of his week without Hanschen in a positive manner, although he had mentioned several unwanted interactions with Gabor and Moritz. Still, the two had parted ways fondly, and there was nothing Hanschen could think of that he had said or done to upset Ernst. Something must have happened after Hanschen and Mischa had gone home to upset him; what was it? Who was it? He narrowed his eyes. Had Gabor gone back to talk to Ernst later in the day? It was definitely something that the radical boy would do, but Ernst had already shown him that he didn't believe his lies and blasphemous tales. He doubted that anything Gabor could have said to Ernst the previous night would have been enough to ruin weeks of his work. If it wasn't Gabor, then who? He racked his brain, quickening his pace as the chill began to set into his bones. He never really spoke to any of the girls, so although Ernst was friends with Anna, Hanschen doubted she would have anything to say about him. Both Otto and Georg were considerably close to him and rather oblivious; they worshipped the ground that he walked on. That only left Moritz, and he was such a mouse of a boy, he could hardly be-

Hanschen stopped suddenly, nearly tripping over an exposed tree root. _Moritz._ It had to be Moritz! That twitchy little imbecile! Hanschen ground his teeth, digging his nails into his palms. How could he have forgotten about Moritz? After the pirate/princess incident, how could he have allowed the two boys access to Ernst alone? What was he thinking? He shook his head, resuming his trek. He was almost to school and he was fuming. He must have run into Moritz sometime the night before and Moritz must have told him everything! Only something of that magnitude would be enough to scare Ernst off after how close they had become. Still, even with information like that, Moritz certainly did not have the courage to seek out Ernst for that purpose. Somehow, it was drawn out of him. Hanschen strode into the school, placing his things haphazardly into the coatroom before taking a moment to compose himself. It would simply not do to show the other boys his fury, nor would it do to show Ernst that he was very upset indeed with him. He schooled his expression into one of cool indifference before walking to his seat in the classroom and neatly tucking his things under his desk. He stared straight ahead, not looking at any of the other boys. Let them talk, let them do as they pleased. How _dare_ Moritz interfere in his affairs! He was a good-for-nothing, brainless and incompetent, with lank hair and a mousy face. For Heaven's sake, the boy wasn't even pleasant to look at! At least Gabor, despite his many flaws, was a handsome boy with charisma. His constant subject matter, however, rendered his charisma irrelevant. Hanschen steepled his fingers before resting his forehead against them. He needed to do damage control and he needed to do it today. He went through his lessons on autopilot, managing to do the work and answer questions correctly while trying to work out a solution mentally. Before he was really even aware of the time passing, it was lunch hour. The boys all scrambled to the coatroom for the lunch packs, leaving Hanschen to coolly and calmly tuck his items away and grab his lunch. He, Otto and Georg took their usual spots under the shade of the tree, neither of the other boys commenting on Ernst's absence from their lunch circle. Hanschen ate silently, his eyes riveted on Ernst sitting alone, quite a distance away from the others. The smaller boy was morosely poking at a chunk of bread, staring vacantly into the distance. Hanschen took small pleasure in the fact that Ernst refused to join Moritz and Gabor for lunch, but he would much prefer the other boy's company. He frowned. Was he a man or was he a mouse? He had invested so much time into molding this boy, why was he sitting here moping? He stood up suddenly, apple and cheese in hand, and strode over to Ernst quickly. He saw Ernst's eyes widen and dart around in panic, but Hanschen was already sitting down next to him before he could do anything.

"Well." Hanschen said.

Silence. Ernst still looked like a skittish deer, eyes darting and muscles tensed.

Hanschen sighed and cleared his throat. "Well." He said again louder. "How was the rest of your evening last night, Herr Robel?"

The other boy turned paler, an impressive feat, Hanschen thought with a small smirk. "Uh... um, it... it was f-fine, Hanschen." He mumbled, refusing to make eye contact.

"Oh, was it?" Maintaining a disinterested air, he took a bite of apple, chewed it thoroughly and swallowed before continuing, "Did you have a pleasant conversation with Herr Stiefel?"

Ernst's piece of bread hit the dirt. He was trembling visibly and his eyes seemed to be watering. "H-how did you know about th-that?" He gasped.

Hanschen allowed his smirk to span his face. Ernst was playing into the palm of his hand; right where he wanted him. "I know everything, Ernst. You would do well to re-evaluate the opinions of others, specifically those who cannot manage to stay awake in class." He rebuked casually. "I'm sure what he told you was... shocking, to say the least."

"Is it true?" Ernst whispered, now daring to meet Hanschen's eyes. Perfect.

"Well, yes." Hanschen replied. "We were playing. I was the pirate, he was the princess. The princess always rewards her rescuer with a kiss. It's in all the stories." He said, a slight mocking tinge to his voice. "Why? Does it repulse you?"

"...It's unnatural."

"Is it now? The Greeks and Romans both endorsed love between men, in fact, it was common practice. Not nearly the horrifying thing that people nowadays believe." He leaned in closer to Ernst, who was surprisingly not shying away. "Do you remember the story of Achilles and Patroclus?" Ernst nodded slowly. "They were romantically involved. Only the modern story-telling has, shall we say, altered the story." He gazed at Ernst to gauge his reaction. He did not look quite as uncomfortable as before, but Hanschen figured he might as well tie up any loose ends. "Of course, that is not to say that I was trying to pursue something of that sort with Moritz. We were boys and it was a game. All I am saying is that... it is not unnatural." He finished, making deliberate and intense eye contact with Ernst.

"I... I don't know what to think." Ernst finally replied after a long silence. "The Bible says that it is not church preaches against it... but you say that it was common and accepted amongst some of the greatest civilizations history has known. It's a lot to consider." He admitted, poking at his ruined piece of bread on the ground. Hanschen hands him a bit of cheese, which he gratefully accepts.

"Understand that I am simply asking you to consider my side of the story and the simple facts that history has presented us with. You don't need to come to any life-changing decisions about right and wrong and the church. We can leave that to Gabor." Hanschen laughs darkly. "It is just something to ponder."

Ernst nodded again, slowly chewing the cheese. "I will have to think about this. But, thank you, Hanschen." He said with a small smile. "You're a true friend."

Hanschen nods at him. He's already won Ernst back, he thinks with a brutal smile. All it took was a few references to history and the other boy is back to eating out of the palm of his hand. From here on out, everything else should be easy as long as he is cautious and smart. And if Hanschen is good at anything, it is being cautious and smart. The two boys finished their lunches in comfortable silence.

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**Like I said, a little short. But hopefully, enough to re-engage you in the story! Please review, favorite, alert, whatever strikes your fancy! Thanks!**


	5. Losses and Gains

**A/N- ***crawls out of the woodwork* I'm not even going to try to excuse the year hiatus this has been on. My muse totally fled and life's been nuts. That being said, I seem to have had a momentary stroke of inspiration for this story and I wanted to give you something satisfactory. This chapter brings around the end of part one, which will be followed by a brief interlude and then, part two. Part two is where we get to the crux of the story, once Hanschen and Ernst are adults living in Berlin. That is where I have 95% of my ideas and planning so hopefully, I can get some more of this out to you within a reasonable time frame. Thank you again so much for reading, reviewing, favoriting, etc etc. It is so greatly appreciated and you all are absolute loves for reading this thing.

**Disclaimer-** Still not mine, forthcoming OCs are plot do belong to me.

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The leaves begin falling from the trees and as autumn truly blossoms, Hanschen has regained all lost ground with Ernst. His friendships with Georg and Otto have suffered but, he reasons, his little pet is well worth the sacrifice. It begins with simple, casual touches: a pat on the back or leaning against him while practicing Latin. Once Ernst seems accustomed to these small things and even seems to welcome them, Hanschen will lightly stroke Ernst's hands while they study and eventually that evolves into outright handholding when the pair is alone. Ernst smiles more often now and is doing much better in his studies under Hanschen's tutelage. Hanschen is very pleased with his progress, all things considered.

It is a Thursday morning, the late October sky cloudy and the wind blowing the leaves around, and when Hanschen and Ernst arrive at school, it is clear that something is wrong. Georg and Otto are huddled around Gabor's desk, Gabor himself is slumped in his seat with his head cradled in his hands. Georg and Otto are talking in low tones, Sonnenstitch is nowhere to be seen. Hanschen has a heavy feeling in his stomach that he can't identify, but he certainly does not like it.

"What is it? What's going on?" Ernst asks as they approach the other boys.

Gabor's shoulders heave and Georg lays a consoling hand on his shoulders. Otto walks over to Hanschen and Ernst, his normally jovial face now a mask of grief. "Moritz was found in the woods this morning," He tells them in a low tone. "He shot himself."

Ernst gasps and stumbles in place, Hanschen automatically reaches out and steadies him. "Oh my goodness..." Ernst breathes, clutching Hanschen's hand. Hanschen does not visibly react. Hanschen is not sure how he feels, to be honest. Yes, the boy was an imbecile who could hardly function on his own, but he and Hanschen had been friends, once. For God's sake, Hanschen had once kissed the boy! How did he end up in the woods with a gun? The heavy feeling in his stomach grows worse; he drops Ernst's hand and goes to sit at his desk. He furtively looks over at Gabor, noticing the boy's shoulders shaking, presumably with sobs, as he mourns his lost friend.

Herr Sonnenstitch finally enters the classroom, a false look of remorse plastered on his face. "Gentlemen," He begins, "it seems that a member of our class is no longer with us. This morning, Moritz Stiefel took his own life." A sob escapes Gabor. Herr Sonnenstitch pauses a moment, as if debating whether or not to silence him, before continuing, "We are all aware that the taking of one's own life is a sin, and he will suffer whatever our Heavenly Father deems appropriate for him. Still," He raises his voice as Gabor lets loose another cry, "we must pray for his damned soul and pity him, as is our Christian duty."

It seems that these final words are Gabor's undoing as the young man finally lifts his head, his eyes red and swollen and stands up. "Damn your pity and damn your prayers!" He shouts before leaving the classroom in a whirl of anguish and rage.

Hanschen chances a glance back at Ernst and is unsurprised to see the boy's eyes glistening with unshed tears. He nods at him before turning back in his seat. Herr Sonnenstitch is staring after Gabor with a thoughtful look on his face, but it is only a matter of moments before the instructor begins their lessons for the day, never once bringing up Moritz or Melchior.

The two attend the funeral together and toss down their flowers into the cold, damp dirt. Hanschen is uncomfortable standing in his Sunday best, watching Gabor glower at Herr and Frau Stiefel, before the grieving family breaks down into sobs in front of the congregation. Hanschen turns away in embarrassment. Such an outburst of emotion is uncomfortable for him even to watch, so he watches Ernst instead. Ernst has his eyes closed and it is difficult to tell if the drops on his face are from the rain or his tears. Either way, it is unsettling for him. Was Ernst that sensitive, or did Moritz Stiefel actually mean something to his little Ernst? Eventually, Ernst meets his gaze and attempts a watery smile and a nod. Hanschen returns the nod solemnly. He decides that it must be sheer sentiment and refuses to dwell anymore on the idea of a friendship between Ernst and Moritz. He shakes his head and when he looks back to the funeral, he finds that it is ending. Slowly, the families all leave and head back to their homes, leaving Melchior Gabor to stand alone over his friend's fresh grave.

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It is unsurprising to find that mere days after Moritz's funeral, Melchior Gabor has been expelled from school and sent off to a reformatory. It is decided by the adults in the community that the pamphlet that he had shown Ernst (and apparently, Moritz) was the source of Moritz's trauma and that the information given to him about copulation was the unfortunate boy's downfall. Neither Ernst nor Hanschen mention anything about Ernst's viewing of the pamphlet and although it is strange to have a class size so small, Herr Sonnenstitch becomes much more pleasant and effective of an instructor.

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Hanschen puzzles over his feelings about the absence of the two boys for a week. He is thrilled about not having to worry about Gabor interfering with Ernst anymore, not to mention that Hanschen is now at the top of the class with unrivaled marks, but life seems just a little... duller now that he has no rival for attention. All the same, the idea of the radical Melchior Gabor in a reformatory pleases him and ultimately is all he cares about. Moritz, on the other hand, is a more complicated issue.

He should be indifferent. The lack of Moritz Stiefel should not make any sort of impact on his life whatsoever. He quickly realizes that it's not an emotional attachment to the dead boy, apart from the dull ache of losing an acquaintance, but his own mortality and that of those around him that pains him. What would he have done if it had been Ernst who had committed the act? The very idea sickens him, although he is confident that his Ernst would never do such an idiotic thing, and he quickly dismisses that idea. Still, images of Moritz, and then Ernst, with a gun pressed to his head haunt his sleep for several days after the funeral. He decides then to finish his plan and to make Ernst truly his, since he now realizes how incredibly precious the time they have together is. He takes special care to memorize every interaction, every brief instant of contact that they have, biding his time until the perfect moment arrives.

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One day, on what seems like the last true warm day of the year, Hanschen decides to take the final step. He has been patient and everything will pay off beautifully.

He and Ernst are in the vineyard as Ernst finishes up the last of the arithmetic assignment. The sun is setting, casting an orange glow throughout the trees and lending an intimate, almost magical feel to the evening. The air is heavy with the scent of grapes, wildflowers and the lingering scent of the boys' recent cigarettes. Off in the distance, the church bells chime the hour and the birds chatter their response. Hanschen stares at the sky but his attention is on Ernst. "Those bells," He says distantly, "so peaceful."

"I know", Ernst replies with a smile. "Sometimes," He begins, "when it's quiet in the evening like this, I imagine myself as a country pastor... with my red-cheeked wife, my library, my degrees... Boys and girls who live nearby give me their hands as I go walking." He wistfully says, twisting the grass beneath him into knots. Hanschen has watched Ernst throughout his little speech, all hopeful nonsense, and bites back a laugh.

"You can't be serious." He utters, completely deadpan. Ernst looks wounded, which works just fine for Hanschen, so he sits down next to the other boy, their bodies pressed together just a little too closely for it to be completely innocent. "Really Ernst, you're such a sentimentalist. The pious, serene faces you see on the clergy? It's all an act to hide their envy." He allows this to sink in for a moment before tilting his head toward Ernst, still gazing out at the horizon before continuing, "Trust me, there are only three ways a man can go. He can let the status quo defeat him, like Moritz." The mention of the dead boy causes Ernst to shiver lightly. Hanschen grasps his hand lightly before steadily continuing, "He can rock the boat, like Melchior, and be expelled. Or," He breathes, gazing directly at Ernst now, "he can bide his time, and let the system work for him... like me."

Ernst is gazing at him now, eyes wide, curious and trusting. Hanschen moves even closer to him, so close now that Ernst's left leg is in Hanschen's lap. The other boy blushes, but Hanschen continues talking, his thumb tracing circles on the back of Ernst's hand. "Think of the future as a pail of whole milk. One man sweats and stirs, churning it into butter- like Otto, for example. Another man frets, and spills his milk, and cries all night, like Georg. But me, well," and now his mouth is suddenly dry. He swallows. "I'm like a pussycat." He wets his lips, maintaining eye contact. "I just skim off the cream."

"...j-just skim off the cream?" Ernst stammers as he stares at Hanschen's mouth, wetting his lips in what seems to be an unconscious response.

"Right."

"But what about the-" Ernst looks so innocent and pure, but with the wind tousling his hair and his freshly wet lips, he looks positively obscene. Hanschen cannot help but laugh, wanting nothing more than to capture those red lips with his own and take what is his. He imagines the other boy's mouth will be soft and warm and taste vaguely of the sweet bread that his mother bakes. "You're laughing." Ernst softly states, flushing. "Why?" Hanschen doesn't bother responding, he simply leans in closer to the other boy, placing his free hand on Ernst's jaw and gazing intently at him. "Hanschen-"

And then Hanschen presses his lips to the other boy's, softly and chastely at first, letting Ernst get used to the idea. He untangles his hand from Ernst's and places it on the other boy's hip, gripping it softly but firmly as he slowly begins to deepen the kiss. "Oh God!" Ernst gasps against his mouth, pulling away just enough to rest his head on Hanschen's shoulder.

"Mmmm, I know." Hanschen replies, taking the time to run his fingers through Ernst's silky hair. "When we look back, thirty years from now, tonight will seem unbelievably... beautiful."

Ernst lifts his head to look into Hanschen's eyes, his own clouded with want, "And in the meantime?"

He shrugs, leaning in to kiss him again. "Why not?" The second time, the kiss is immediately deeper and more heated as Ernst slides onto Hanschen's lap and wraps his arms around Hanschen's neck. A thrill of desire courses through his body as Hanschen lightly bites then licks the other boy's bottom lip, caressing Ernst's mouth thoroughly with his tongue. Everything feels warm and right and his head almost feels fuzzy. This is it, he thinks vaguely. This is exactly what I wanted, this is all I could possibly want. He begins to lean back on the grass, pulling Ernst's hips to straddle him when the other boy breaks the kiss with a gasp.

"On my way here this afternoon, I thought perhaps we'd only... talk." Ernst says, sitting back on his heels. Hanschen thinks he has never seen a more beautiful sight than Ernst with kiss-swollen lips, straddling him in an orchard at twilight. He leans back on his elbows with an eyebrow raised.

"So, are you sorry we...?" It is rhetorical. He is well aware of the fact that both he and Ernst are enjoying themselves.

"No!" Ernst falls forward, practically onto Hanschen's chest in his haste to reassure him that this is not the case. "No." He attempts again, still straddling Hanschen, his hands now firmly planted on the blonde's chest. "No, I love you Hanschen, as I have never loved anyone." He says honestly and firmly, love shining from his eyes.

Hanschen smirks, reaching out a hand to fist in Ernst's hair. "And so you should." He states before pulling Ernst's mouth back to him.

He has won.

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**END PART ONE**

**Thanks for reading! Please leave a review!**

**I'll try really hard to get the interlude up asap and then onto Part Two!**


	6. Interlude, Or the Passing of Time

**A/N-** It seems that I have had a flash of freak inspiration! Two updates within the same month? Insanity! But here it is, in all of its unbetaed glory. If there are any huge, glaring mistakes, please let me know! It's 5.30 in the morning and I've been working on this since midnight. Fair warning, this interlude is rather a couple of scenes that span over six years. Hopefully, the transitions make the time passages clear. After this chapter, the actual plot of the story will start. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer-** Still don't own 'Spring Awakening'.

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It is in the beginning of winter when Wendla Bergmann dies suddenly from anemia. The community has not quite recovered from the loss of Moritz Stiefel, so the loss of another person so young is quite a blow. The churchyard is blanketed in a heavy layer of snow, undisturbed save for Wendla's freshly dug grave. The pastor stands above, reciting dull and meaningless scripture while her friends and family look on and weep for the loss of the beautiful and vibrant young woman. Ernst wipes away several silent tears as he holds Anna, who is free to weep into the shoulder of his warm woolen coat. He wishes he could weep as freely as she can, but swallows the impulse. He instead gazes at Hanschen, standing solemnly with Mischa's hand held in his, and wishes that he could take comfort in the other boy. Hanschen seems to feel his need and looks back at him, a mixture of quiet comfort and sorrow in his eyes. The family has begun throwing fistfuls of dirt into the grave, so Ernst gently pulls Anna from his shoulder and returns her to her family, kissing her briefly on the forehead. He rearranges his scarf around his neck and mentions to his parents that he'd like to be alone for a bit. They accept this wordlessly and return home without a second glance. He makes his way over to Hanschen; Mischa has already been ushered away by their parents down the snowy path to their home. The two look at each other and wordlessly begin walking to their orchard. Once they are a suitable distance away from the mourners, Ernst begins to weep. "My God, Hanschen…" He gasps, tears marking freezing tracks down his face. The taller boy stops and turns to Ernst, wiping away his tears with his mitten-clad thumb.

"It's alright," Hanschen whispers soothingly as he strokes the other boy's skin, "you can cry." He wraps Ernst in a strong, warm embrace, allowing Ernst to truly collapse against him.

Hanschen smiles slightly at this. He certainly cares for Ernst, but this moment of… not weakness, but vulnerability is quite delicious. Hanschen himself has never been one to cry, let alone show any sort of vulnerability… the idea is repulsive. But watching others allow themselves to be that open to the world has always been thrilling for him. It was part of what drew him to Ernst in the first place. Ernst has always been so open and so easy to read, especially now that Hanschen knows him more intimately. He can understand every quirk of the other boy's mouth, every crinkle of his eyes, every gasp that escapes his mouth; Hanschen can define them all. It is this lovely vulnerability that reaffirms that Hanschen is completely and utterly in control of what is happening, in control of Ernst himself. And yet…

Hanschen smiles a bit. Ernst truly is remarkable. His delicate demeanor is deceptive, for he has inner strength that has surprised even Hanschen. He is exceptionally kind and loyal, both of which are incredibly important to Hanschen. That tiny hiccup with Moritz was just that- an issue that was easily remedied with a little patience.. He pulls away from Ernst, who is still sniffling, and regards him seriously. The snow has begun to fall again, lightly powdering their hair and shoulders, glistening faintly in the rising moonlight. Ernst's eyes are red from crying and his cheeks are flushed from the cold; he is beautiful, lithe and pale with dark features- Hanschen is sure that Ernst is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. "You are incredibly beautiful." Hanschen tells him as one hand cradles Ernst's jaw.

Ernst shyly turns his head away from Hanschen. "Men aren't beautiful." He mumbles, and Hanschen is positive that the snow is no longer to blame for the red in his cheeks. His smile grows.

"Ernst." He commands, and the smaller boy turns his gaze reluctantly back to him. "Listen to me. You are beautiful. If I say that you are beautiful, that means you are beautiful. Look," He says, looking out at the horizon: a perfect blanket of snow covering the ground, the white-coated trees rising up into the inky blackness of the sky, a bright dusting of stars glittering above. The waxing moon lights the night just for them, it seems. "Look, Ernst. All this before you. This is beautiful, is it not?" Upon the other boy's nod, he continues, "The earth, the sky, the moon. None of these have gender, and yet they are still beautiful. Beauty is not relevant to gender, dear Ernst, and so I tell you, as the earth, the sky and the moon are beautiful, so are you."

By now, Ernst's tears have dried and he is staring at Hanschen in awe, his eyes shining with love. "Thank you." He whispers, reaching out and grasping Hanschen's hands. "Thank you." He repeats before pressing their lips together. They stay like this for quite some time, just kissing underneath the falling snow.

* * *

Ernst and Anna sit together in the field, weaving flower crowns and feasting on the loaf of bread Ernst's mother had freshly baked that morning. The sun is high overhead but the day is cool, so the pair are comfortable sitting under the early afternoon sun. Spring is in full bloom, so the field is filled with edelweiss, aster and thistles just begging to be plucked from the earth and placed upon their heads. Anna's hair is undone from her braids, and the wind picks up the tendrils of her glossy chestnut hair, making it dance in wild patterns through the sunlight. Ernst leans back on the soft, new grass and smiles. It is impossible to be any happier than he is at the moment, he decides. The day is perfect, he's spending it with his best friend, and he gets to spend his days (and sometimes, his nights) with the most wonderful boy in the world. The more time he spends with Hanschen, the more strongly he feels that he and the blond boy are meant to be together. Hanschen can be cold and slightly callous, but he can, and does, make Ernst feel like he's the only person that matters in the world. The past few months that they have spent together have made Ernst incandescently happy; the idea that summer will soon be approaching and they won't have to worry about school holds a golden promise that makes Ernst's breath catch.

"Anna", Ernst asks, twirling the stem of a thistle between his fingers, "do you think it's possible to love someone completely, with every fiber of yourself, at our age?"

Anna turns to look at him, shading her eyes from the sun. She frowns puzzledly. "I suppose." She replies slowly as she chews her bottom lip. "Why should our age determine our capacity to love?" Seeing Ernst merely shrug, she leans forward, her hair spilling in her face. She brushes it aside haphazardly and asks coyly, "Why on Earth do you ask? Who is it that you're so desperately in love with?"

Ernst closes his eyes, flushing brilliantly. "No one," He nonchalantly tells her, fighting off a grin. "It was a… hypothetical question."

She sees through his flimsy lie and giggles, throwing herself onto his chest, her hands planted on his shoulders. "Nonsense!" She laughs, her hair falling and forming a curtain around their heads. She really is lovely, Ernst thinks, with a sweet face and soft hair. She will be the perfect wife for a lucky man one day. This fond train of thought was interrupted by Anna jabbing her finger into his chest insistently. "There was a reason you asked and I want to know who it is that has your heart fluttering like dozens of little butterflies!"

Ernst can't help but laugh at his best friend's pouting face. He tugs her down gently, so that her head is pillowed on his chest and his arms are wrapped around her. "I can't tell you." He says with a smile, but he is firm. He loves Anna very much and he trusts her as much as he can, but something like this… he is better off, they are better off without anyone else knowing.

Anna simply nods against his chest and they lay in pleasant silence for a while, just taking in the beauty of the day and enjoying each other's company. After a while, she speaks, "Georg's parents have been talking to mine, they intend for the two of us to marry."

He frowns minutely and opens his eyes, his eyes taking a bit too long to adjust to the sun. "So soon?" He asks.

Anna raises her chin to look at him. "It is not that soon, Ernst. I'm just shy of eighteen, it is time for me to marry." A wistful sort of look washes over her face, and Ernst is pleased to find that she seems to be just as in love as he is. "I am rather fond of Georg", she confesses, although this is not new information to him, "and since I must marry someone, I am truly glad that it is him. He will be a good husband." After this pronouncement, the two make eye contact briefly before dissolving into laughter, Anna rolling off of Ernst and onto her back next to him. After they catch their breath, she grasps his hand and entangles their fingers. "Whoever this person is Ernst," she begins, and it does not escape his attention that she continues to say "person" rather than "girl", "I just hope that they make you happy and treat you well."

He murmurs that he wishes the same for her. The afternoon passes pleasantly as the sun turns from bright gold into glimmering bronze and finally, the fading warmth of sunset as the two head home.

* * *

All too soon, much too soon for Ernst's liking, it is the day of Anna and Georg's wedding. It is spring again and Anna's birthday has just passed. She has on a new dress with flowers woven through her hair; Ernst thinks she has never looked so beautiful in her entire life. They stand before the congregation, she and Georg, and recite their vows, both blushing furiously. They are a well-suited match, he thinks; he could not have picked a better husband for Anna if he had tried. As the pastor pronounces their union, Ernst's mother sighs a bit, dabbing at her eyes, glancing at Ernst briefly. She has not made a secret of her desire for Ernst to find a young lady to woo. Ernst has yet to find a way to let her know the futility of this. The congregation bursts into modest applause and cheers as the newly wedded couple kisses chastely before heading back down the aisle. He is startled to realize that he envies them. He deeply wishes that he and Hanschen could have this kind of simple happiness, a way to be together without anyone judging them or trying to keep them apart. Not marriage certainly, but… something. He isn't sure what he wants, but the desire is there. He follows his family out to bid congratulations to the couple and once Anna is in front of him, bedecked in her bridal splendor, he whirls her around and presses a kiss to her cheek. "You are absolutely radiant." He tells her with a smile. "I'm so happy for you, dear one."

She brushes away a tear with a huge grin and returns his kiss. "Thank you. Today is truly the happiest day of my life. And I hope the happiest day of yours will be sooner rather than later!" She proclaims with a smile before moving onto the next person in the line. He shakes Georg's hand and exchanges congratulations and pleasantries with the other man as Hanschen appears at his elbow. Hanschen and Georg talk for a bit, a bit more friendly than his interaction with the groom, giving him time to take in his lover. Hanschen is dressed smartly in a dark grey suit with his hair slicked back more sleekly than usual. Ernst flushes, wondering how in the world someone like Hanschen is interested in him, until Hanschen catches his eye and his eyes glitter with desire. Ernst shivers. Georg finally moves on to catch up with his new wife and Hanschen smiles at Ernst. "A truly thrilling ceremony." He says dryly.

Ernst bites back a laugh. "I hardly think anyone would call a wedding thrilling, by any stretch of the imagination." He takes a moment to gaze at Hanschen again. "You look very handsome." He says softly.

Hanschen smiles, his eyes darkening. "And you, my love, are beautiful. As always." He motions toward the large oak near them and the two sit down underneath its shade. They do not sit as close as they'd like to, mindful of the people near them, but they are simply content to be in each other's company. After a comfortable silence, Ernst speaks.

"I wish we could do that."

"Do what?"

"That." Ernst nods towards the church.

Hanschen raises an eyebrow. "Marriage? Don't be ridiculous."

Ernst is taken aback. "I know that it's not possible, I just wish that we could have something similar…" He trails off.

"I don't." Hanschen bluntly states. He sees Ernst flinch and sighs. "No. I don't like the idea of marriage. If you love someone, then love them. My parents do not love each other, not in the way that you and I do, not in the way that I see that Georg and Anna do. Their love is perfunctory, fashioned from years of cohabitation and nothing else. They love each other because they must. You and I, Ernst, we will never have children together. So there is no point." Ernst feels mildly comforted by this speech, until: "I am fairly certain that I will be engaged to be married sooner rather than later anyway, to someone I hardly know and I'm certain that I don't care about." He reaches out to Ernst before remembering himself, where they are, and pulls back. "I would rather remember my better years having been spent with you before giving myself up to some dithering woman."

Ernst nods slowly. "I suppose that's true. I just hope marriage is good to Georg and Anna. It would break my heart to see them end up like my parents, or yours." He leans forward to Hanschen. "I would stay with you for a hundred years if I could. I do love you, more than I thought possible."

Hanschen smiles at this, staring at the clouds. "And I, you. But we have right now, so let's appreciate the moments we have, mm?" He stands, brushing off his pants before offering his hand to Ernst. "Come."

Ernst is pulled to his feet and the two walk together to their secluded spot in the orchard.

* * *

Several years pass. Both boys pass into their twenty-first years when Hanschen's parents begin to bring up university. Enough time has passed for him to mature into a man ready to devote his time to studying business and his parents are determined to send him to Ludwig Maximilian University. As much as he dreads the idea of heading off alone and leaving Ernst behind, the promise of freedom tempts him, teasing him with thoughts of uninhibited freedom. It is just before Christmas when Hanschen receives his acceptance to the University, prompting a hearty shoulder clap from his father and a fit of happy tears from his mother. He smiles quietly as Mischa crawls into his lap and asks him if he is leaving forever.

"No, my little one," He softly tells her, running his fingers through her dark curls. "Just for a little while. I must go and learn how to be a successful businessman like Papa, and when I am rich and have a house of my very own, you may come and visit me all you'd like. I will come and visit you as often as I can." He presses a kiss to her hair, prompting her to giggle. If he could just bring Mischa and Ernst with him to Munich, he would never have to return to this boring little village or endure his parents ever again.

He sighs, knowing that putting off telling Ernst this news will only make life difficult, and heads upstairs to grab Ernst's Christmas present. He and Ernst have been together for six years and considering that this is probably the last year they will be able to spend together, Hanschen has something special. Hanschen's father had given him a ring earlier in the year. "A family heirloom," he had proclaimed, showing the delicate golden band to his son, "worn exclusively by the ladies of the Rilow family. Give this to Liesl, son, once you decide to marry. " And that was that: his father had picked out his engagement ring for his future wife. He, however, had no intention of giving it to this woman he'd never so much as seen a picture of; he thought it would sit much better on Ernst's delicate hand. He tucks the wooden box into the pocket of his coat, winds his scarf around his neck and heads into the still winter evening to Ernst's. To his surprise, he finds his lover on the road to his house. Since they are surrounded by a thick blanket of falling snow, they greet each other with a kiss. "Merry Christmas, Hanschen!"

"Merry Christmas, Ernst." He returns. "Where are you off to?"

"Coming to find you, of course. Who else would I rather spend today with?" Ernst's eyes are bright and shining, so Hanschen cannot help himself but to smile, despite the news he brings. Hanschen kisses him again hungrily, as if trying to imprint this moment in his memory forever. He winds his hands in Ernst's hair and presses himself fully against the smaller boy, lightly rocking his pelvis into Ernst's. Ernst moans slightly and lets himself be ravaged, twining his arms around Hanschen's neck and surrendering to him. Finally, they pull apart and collect themselves, out of breath and blissful.

"I have something for you." Hanschen tells him with a smile. "Where shall we go?"

"The orchard, of course. It's ours." Ernst replies. The orchard is their haven, no matter the season. They still spend time by the stream and out in the field, but the orchard has a magic all its own. They stroll to their spot in comfortable silence, hands entwined, before settling down in their usual spot. Hanschen pulls a worn, woolen blanket from the hole in the tree they made years ago and spreads it out on small patch of dry earth, which the two cuddle up on. Once they are comfortable, Hanschen turns to Ernst, fiddling with the box in his pocket. "I have something for you," he repeats. "You said, years ago, that you wished that we could have something like marriage, to stay with each other for a hundred years. And while I still cannot give you the hundred years you so desire, I can give you this." He pulls out the box and hands it to Ernst, who opens it with shaking hands and gasps. "It's an heirloom, for the men of my family to give to the one they choose to spend their lives with. I cannot make you the same promise, but I want you to know that if I could make that decision, I would." He swallows roughly, finding that the words are difficult in coming. "If it were at all possible, I would spend my lifetime with you by my side."

Ernst swallows a sob as he looks at the ring. He simply nods as he places it on his left ring finger. It is a little snug, as it is meant for a woman's finger, but he has always been rather small and so it still fits. "You are the best thing to ever happen to me." He throatily says, trying and failing to keep the tears out of his voice.

"Yes, I am." Hanschen replies with a smile. The two laugh briefly before sharing a short kiss.

"I have something for you as well, though it's not nearly as impressive as this." Ernst pulls a small, neatly wrapped package from his coat. Hanschen opens it to find a leather-bound journal; the pages inside filled with Ernst's handwriting and sketches. He shoots a questioning glance at his lover, who blushes and explains, "It's a journal I started keeping starting that first night at the orchard. Any and every thought I have had about you… about us, is in this journal. I finally finished filling it several months ago. I thought you'd like to have it."

Hanschen blinked. He hadn't expected anything like this in return, their previous Christmases, they had given each other perfectly innocent gifts like new scarves, books or the year Hanschen had bought Ernst a new pocketwatch that had set him back on funds for several months. Completely innocent and normal gifts for friends to give each other. Somehow, they both knew that this year was different. He strokes the leather of the journal and flips through several of the pages, soaking in the memories and obvious love that Ernst's gift contains. "Thank you." He finally manages. "This… this is wonderful."

"You like it?" Ernst asks hopefully.

"I love it." He replies matter-of-factly. "I shall hold this dear to me always. Thank you." He sincerely says, kissing the other boy deeply. He is too invested in this moment and his overwhelming love for Ernst to remember the letter sitting at home with his parents that will change everything. All he can think about now is the warmth of the Ernst's embrace, the softnss of his mouth and the sheer beauty of the gift that Ernst has given him.

"Merry Christmas, my love." Ernst whispers as Hanschen sucks lightly on his pulse point.

"Merry Christmas." He softly replies, kissing the area lightly before returning to his lover's lips.

It is the last truly moment that the two of them have.

* * *

**Yeah... I'm sorry, I'm awful. If you're just dying to know what happens next, (and let's be honest, I'm not really the queen of timely updates!) Goodbye Until Tomorrow, the second chapter, will give you an idea of what's to come. I didn't realize also in that story that the flashback referenced in that chapter is not ten years later, my math was wrong. If you choose to read it, that flashback takes place the week after the Christmas one shown last here, so six years rather than ten. Reviews help keep my muse going! **

**Thanks guys!**


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